More E. K. Means / Is This a Title? It Is Not. It Is the Name of a Writer of Negro Stories, Who Has Made Himself So Completely the Writer of Negro Stories That This Second Book, Like the First, Needs No Title

by E. K. Means

“Gawd knows,” Tick sighed.

“It would be wise to recover those letters, if possible,” Judge Lanark suggested.

“I kin git ’em all right,” Tick said. “Bofe letters is layin’ on de groun’ close to de Shoofly chu’ch whar dey dropped ’em down when dey seed de ha’nt.”

“Go get them at once!” Lanark commanded.

“I’ll git ’em in de mawnin’, jedge,” Tick replied. “Nobody ain’t gwine pick ’em up to-night—not no niggers—dey ain’t!”

“Isn’t there some other woman you could fall in love with?” Gaitskill wanted to know.

“I ’speck so, boss.”

“I advise you to choose a third party and marry her,” Gaitskill said.

“I’s kinder squeamish ’bout dat, kunnel,” Tick said earnestly. “You see, dis am de fustest time I is ever messed wid mattermony, an’ I ain’t real shore of my foot-holt.”

“You have messed it pretty well, so far,” Gaitskill laughed. “Of course, if you don’t want to marry, I think I can find some other man to put on my plantation as tenant——”